


In One Piece

by Azellma



Series: Chains Anthology [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Chains one-shot, F/M, Fluff, Sappy stuff, Short One Shot, why are these all so sappy goddamn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 21:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16003625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azellma/pseuds/Azellma
Summary: Set during the 'Campfire' chapter of The Chains That Bind.





	In One Piece

**Author's Note:**

> I'm beginning to wonder why all my one-shots about these two are so tragically sweet. Like left to their own devices they'd just play out melodramatic gothic romances on a windswept moor somewhere. John Hancock, Byronic hero, and Sloan Summers, plucky but unstable romantic heroine, both aware of the tragedy of their ultimately doomed love - two people from different times, with different lifespans, together against a world that frowns upon their star-crossed relationship, and played out against a backdrop of a world gone halfway to hell.
> 
> Charon in the background rolling his eyes all "YOU TWO ARE REVOLTING. FUCKING STOP THIS TRAGIC ROMANCE BULLSHIT."

  
  
She watched Charon disappear into the bushes, and sighed.  
  
“Long day,” Hancock said to her.  
  
They hadn’t talked about the deathclaw. They almost didn’t need to. But her bodyguard had lost his shit at her lover, and the guilt about that had been gnawing at her. Which was stupid. It wasn’t her fault. In a way, it wasn’t even Charon’s fault. She could understand why someone making the choice Hancock had made might upset another ghoul. But still…  
  
“I’m sorry he yelled at you,” she said.  
  
Hancock shrugged. “Don’t mind the yelling. Hate it when people call ghouls _monsters_.”  
  
“I know.” She looped her arm through his, and leant against his shoulder. “You know I could tell him to stop. But you wouldn’t want that.”  
  
“Nah. Anyway he’d still think it.” He was quiet for a moment, looking into the crackling fire. “It really… I mean, you were cryin’…”  
  
“The storm, and the rad-X, and the…”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“…it didn’t help. I hate that he threw everything in your face like that. And I hate that he thinks of ghouls… of _himself_ … you know? I just want you to be happy. _Both_ of you.”  
  
“Don’t ask much, huh?” He smirked at her. “You could always … y’know. You sure as hell know how to make _me_ happy…”  
  
She giggled. “Would you stop with that? I’m not going to sexually harass him. Not much, anyway. It makes him uncomfortable.”  
  
“You know he’s in love with you?”  
  
She stared at him for a moment. Then she snorted, shaking her head.  
  
“Come on. He’s only just gotten used to me.”  
  
“Sunshine, you didn’t see his face when you were bleedin’ out.”  
  
She winced. She didn’t want to think about that, the moment she felt her life ebbing away and the desperate sadness that she’d never… that they’d never… She shook her head again, and tried to put it out of her mind.  
  
“It hurts him when I’m injured,” she said. “And if I died he’d have to go back to Diamond City by himself to get his contract back.”  
  
“I know what I saw.”  
  
“No, I… I don’t think he thinks of humans like that. You know the face he makes whenever we touch each other.” She giggled to herself. “He thinks it’s _gross_.”  
  
He chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”  
  
She smirked. “Don’t torment him. He’s had enough torment over the last couple hundred years.”  
  
“Ah, c’mon, he’s gotta get over it eventually.”  
  
He wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t want to encourage him. Instead she slid her hand down his arm to entwine her fingers with his, and pressed a kiss against his shoulder.  
  
They watched the fire together in a solemn silence, the sort of uneasy quiet she knew he couldn’t sit with for long. It was only a couple of moments before he hooked her pack with a finger and drew it close, rooting through it for a bottle of vodka.  
  
“Take the edge off?” he asked, shaking the bottle a little.  
  
“Maybe just a little,” she said, taking the bottle and swallowing a mouthful. She coughed, and wiped the vodka from her chin before she handed it back. “I did lose a lot of blood today.”  
  
“Don’t fuckin’ remind me,” he muttered, and tipped the bottle back. She watched his throat move as he swallowed. He was quiet as he screwed the cap back on the bottle, his eyes fixed on the fire. Then he turned them on her, dark and haunted, and to her surprise he reached over to cup her cheek with his hand. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he said, in that voice of his that demanded no opposition.  
  
That voice always got to her. He knew it, too, though she tried her damn best not to show it.  
  
“I didn’t do it on purpose, love,” she said.  
  
“I know. But I can’t take it. I lose you…”  
  
“Hey. A lot of people need you, John Hancock. You’re not allowed to quit.”  
  
“Quitin’s all I’m good at.”  
  
“That’s not true. You’re also good at killing things, and saving people, and giving a girl mind-shattering orgasms.” She lifted her hand to rest it against his, turning her face to kiss his palm. “Seriously, John, listen to me. Chances are, I’m going to die before you do. I won’t rest if I know you’ll tear yourself apart when I’m gone.”  
  
He sighed, and took her hand, pulling it into his lap and tracing his thumb along the lines of her palm.  
  
“I’m not drunk enough for this,” he rasped. He looked up at the stars, dark eyes moving over the constellations. “Immortality seemed like a good deal at the time. Didn’t think I’d fall for…”  
  
“I know.” She smiled. “I didn’t think I’d get thrown forward in time, either.”  
  
“How long’s he been dead now?”  
  
“Eighty years, give or take. From my perspective, about… oh, nine, ten months.”  
  
“It get any easier?”  
  
“Yes. But I think it was different, for me. Like starting over with a whole new life, one loss among all the rest. It wouldn’t be the same if he’d just died. But you’re easy to love, Hancock. There’ll be someone after me. Maybe someone at the same time as me.” She squeezed his hand. “It’d be a weight off if I knew there was someone with you when I wasn’t.”  
  
“Ah, I’m fine. I got Fahrenheit, she keeps me focused.”  
  
“I know. But it’s not the same.”  
  
He sighed, his fingers still tangled with hers.  
  
“We’re meant to be talking about that asshole who follows you around.”  
  
“He’s not an asshole,” she told him, and let the subject-change go. Heavy topics were one of those things Hancock just had trouble dealing with.  
  
He shifted, letting go of her hand and stretching out at right angles to rest his head on her thigh. He looked up at her with his dark eyes, and scowled.  
  
“Come on, seriously? Guy’s an asshole. He told me I shoulda _shot_ myself.”  
  
She chuckled. “All right, fine, he’s an asshole. What about him?”  
  
He closed his eyes, and shifted his shoulders as he got comfortable on her lap.  
  
“I think I can trust the guy to make sure you stay in one piece.”  
  
She exhaled. “Well, good. He’s not a bad person, you know. Whatever you might have heard about the shit he’s done.”  
  
“Heh. Busted.” A small smirk curved the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, I know. Can’t blame me for checkin’.”  
  
“Blame you? You know, it’s kinda hot, having a guy who has all these goons at his beck and call.” She bent forward to kiss him, her hair trailing on the ground.  
  
“They ain’t goons! Goons’re tough guys that come ‘round and threaten ya. These ones are _agents_.” He grinned at her. “Although, if you want goons, we could invite a few up to the room sometime…”  
  
“How many is _a few?_ ”  
  
“Wait, no, I got it, I’ll send ‘em to your room at the Rexford and have them haul you back across the street.”  
  
“That… sounds kinda fun, actually.”  
  
“Wait, really?” He pushed himself up on an elbow to stare at her.  
  
“I’m not saying yes!” She laughed. “I’m just saying I’ll think about it.”  
  
He smirked, and settled back. “Make sure you let me know those things you’re thinkin’. In detail.”  
  
“Quid pro quo, gorgeous. You tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine.”  
  
“Try’n stop me.” There was a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, she echoed it with one of her own.  
  
She stole his hat, setting it on her own head, and letting her fingers stroke along the scars on his scalp. She knew them all by memory, now. There were even some — the line across his bottom lip, another on his chin — that she knew had come from injuries, not from the effects of radiation. They fascinated her. So many ghouls seemed to hate being touched, but this, tracing the ridges of Hancock’s skin… He seemed to find it soothing. It was soothing for her, too, restful and almost instinctive, and as she had many times before she found herself wondering idly what colour his hair had been. Daisy would know, and so would Nick. For some reason, she had never asked them. It was a part of him she’d never know, attached to a face she wouldn’t recognise. He’d left that man behind.  
  
“Sing me the sunshine song, Sunshine,” he murmured.  
  
She laughed. “You should be singing _me_ that song,” she told him.  
  
She sang it anyway, and meant every word.  
  
  


 


End file.
